Love-o'-Women was mighty
sorry bekaze he had no work to do, an' all his time to think in.
I've heard that man talkin' to his belt-plate an' his side-arms
while he was soldierin' thim, all to prevint himself from
thinkin', an' ivry time he got up afther he had been settin' down
or wint on from the halt, he'd start wid that kick an' traverse
that I tould you of - his legs sprawlin' all ways to wanst. He wud
niver go see the docthor, tho' I tould him to be wise. He'd curse
me up an' down for my advice; but I knew he was no more a man to
be reckoned wid than the little bhoy was a commandin' orf'cer, so
I let his tongue run if it aised him.
"Wan day - 'twas on the way back - I was walkin' round camp wid
him, an' he stopped an' struck ground wid his right fut three or
four times doubtful. 'Fwhat is ut?' I sez. 'Is that ground?' sez
he; an' while I was thinkin' his mind was goin', up comes the
docthor, who'd been anatomisin' a dead bullock. Love-o'-Women
starts to go on quick, an' lands me a kick on the knee while his
legs was gettin' into marchin' ordher.
"Hould on there,' sez the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women's face, that
was lined like a gridiron, turns red as brick.
"'Tention,' says the docthor; an' Love-o'-Women stud so.
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